


Aflame

by Jay_eagle



Series: Submission [7]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM Scene, Dom!Douglas, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safeword Use, Sub!Martin, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4502466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_eagle/pseuds/Jay_eagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kestrel337 requested some tender Douglassy aftercare on my Tumblr (jay-eagle.tumblr.com). The fic contains safeword use, in case that's a trigger for anyone. </p><p>It's a stand-alone fic, stored as part of this series as it's where I keep all my BDSM-themed works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aflame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kestrel337](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrel337/gifts).



“GERTI! GERTI!” 

 

The word cut into the silence of the bedroom like a knife and Douglas jerked backwards, instantly moving the lit candle to drip more safely over the sheet - to hell with the coverlet. He was suddenly shaking and a drop of the wax hit his own thigh. Douglas barely noticed the heat; the candle had been carefully chosen for the scene, and the temperature of the molten wax wasn’t hot enough to damage skin. The only thing that could damage him in this room wasn’t a  _thing_  at all, it was a  _he_  - and he had spoken, and it wasn’t a shout of pleasure. Something Douglas had done had been too much.

 

Moving almost on autopilot, Douglas dropped the candle into the basin of water kept for the purpose by the bed and shifted back to cut the ropes fastening Martin’s wrists to the headboards. “We’re stopping, you’re safe, I’m here, you’re OK...” He wasn’t even conscious of what he was babbling as he hastily loosened Martin’s blindfold and pushed the hair delicately off his sub’s sweaty forehead. “I’m here...”

 

Martin had been breathing fast, chest heaving, and it took a long time before his panting began to slow. Douglas cuddled him closely, stroked his back and murmured soothing nothings to him, feeling an odd creeping terror that he battled to shove away; Martin’s needs were far more important than his own just now. He kissed Martin’s hair and rubbed a questing thumb down the captain’s chest, feeling the bumps of the fresh-cooled wax adhering to the tender skin.

 

At length, Martin stopped quivering and became limp in his arms. Douglas opened his eyes to find Martin’s shut tight, but the sub’s hand had moved to grip Douglas’ hip and he took it as a promising sign that Martin was using him to ground himself in a positive way. He chanced a question.

 

"How are you, darling?” Not ‘ _are you OK?’_  - too easy for a sub to blindly agree, even if that gave the lie to their true mental state. Douglas’ question demanded a response, no matter how little detail was contained therein, and it placed no weight of expectation on Martin’s shoulders.

 

Martin tensed, but opened his eyes. “’M - ‘m sorry,” he mumbled, and pressed more closely into Douglas’ chest.

 

“No apologies,” Douglas ordered, though it was a quietly spoken command. “I’m glad you stopped me. I’m glad I can  _trust_  you to stop me.”

 

Martin took a moment, then gave a watery smile. “Glad I can trust you to stop,” he muttered, and closed his eyes again. They weren’t scrunched tight this time, though, which Douglas read as a second good omen.

 

“Was it the temperature play?” It was new to both of them, the candlewax; Martin had been the one to shyly request it and Douglas hadn’t been averse to the idea. Blindfolding, bondage, these they had both enjoyed before - the new element had been the heat, and Douglas fully expected Martin to confirm that it was the burning sensation in unpredictable locations that had been too much for him.

 

He was stunned, then, when Martin shook his head. “It wasn’t?” Another silent demurral. Douglas frowned. “The ropes? They were hurting you?” A rush of anxiety shot across his chest. He was so confident about his knotting skills - years of practice making him blithe and unconcerned about checking them carefully. Had he become overly complacent?

 

“Not the knots. Nor the blindfold,” Martin whispered, forestalling Douglas’ next guess. Martin winced, a horrid blush marring his freckly cheeks as they crinkled with the force of his embarrassment. He fell silent, and Douglas could feel him squirming in his dom’s embrace.

 

“Shh, shh...” Douglas kissed his cheeks, again and again. “Don’t worry - whatever it is, you can tell me - you’re beautiful, so perfect, gorgeous -” he felt some of the swell of love and affection he’d been sensing in the scene flood up in him again. “You’re everything, everything to me - so wonderful -”

 

“ _GERTI_!”

 

Douglas shot backwards from Martin as if his lover had spontaneously combusted in his arms. His whole being seemed to flame - horror burning hot as the candle’s wick over his skin. “M-Martin?”

 

Martin had curled up into a ball and he was quaking more than ever, a muffled sob escaping his foetal coil. Douglas froze, unsure what to do, how to help. He cursed himself for a fool, then collected himself enough to reach for a blanket to draw over Martin’s huddled body. “I won’t say anymore,” he promised, voice shaking. “But I won’t leave. Do you - d’you want me... to touch you?”

 

Martin jerked, and one tear-stained eye peeped out above his arms. “Please,” he begged, and with a surge of relief Douglas slid under the blanket to hold him - in silence, this time.

 

It took an hour before Martin calmed. He rolled onto his back, and Douglas half-turned with him, so he was on his side and still close to the sub he’d so inadvertently wounded. 

 

Martin opened his eyes to look at Douglas, but then closed them again with a grimace. Douglas' heart stuttered. To avoid Martin’s humiliated expression, he looked downwards instead, taking in the pattern of dripped dots of wax that had hardened and cooled over Martin’s chest and belly. 

 

Douglas rubbed an experimental finger over one, and felt Martin push up fractionally into the touch. “Want me to start getting you cleaned up?” he asked quietly, and was relieved again when Martin nodded. “Here - have a pillow.” He gently lifted Martin’s head to prop a soft cushion under it, then set to work, reaching for the blunt knife he’d sourced in anticipation of this task. He’d intended it to be part of the scene, but now...

 

The wax came off in satisfying circular shapes, without crumbling. It felt more solid than Douglas did - his insides felt fragmented, pulverised by what had taken place. He was on to his fourth droplet, softly urging the blob away from milk-white chest, when Martin unexpectedly spoke.

 

“It was... it... you were being so...  _kind_.”

 

Douglas paused for just a second, his knife hovering near Martin’s nipple, while he absorbed the statement. Trying to keep his voice steady, focusing on the task in hand, he replied. “It was - what I was saying?”

 

He felt, rather than saw, Martin’s flinch, but didn’t desist from what he was doing. It proved to be the right course of action, since Martin relaxed as soon as he realised his face wasn’t being scrutinised. “No one’s ever - I - no one’s ever said those things to me. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

 

“What didn’t you know?” Another droplet came away, and Douglas dropped it into the bin he’d fetched up from the bedside with a stretch.

 

“I didn’t know... how it would feel... to be called b-beautiful. Or perfect. Or... the other things....” Martin’s voice trailed away. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Hey.” Douglas paused to grip Martin’s hand for a moment. “Like I said. You mustn’t apologise.” He returned to the largest pool of dried-on wax, near Martin’s navel. He’d enjoyed creating that one, he absently mused. That was before. Before he’d spoilt everything. “ _I_  should be sorry, not you.”

 

“No!” Douglas glanced at Martin’s face, amazed by the vehemence in the cry. Martin looked pale, but determined. “It’s not your fault. You were - you were being kind.” Martin shook his head. “Please don’t apologise for being kind.”

 

Douglas frowned unhappily, but leant to kiss Martin’s cheek before he went back to levering the hardened puddle free. He was relieved that almost none of Martin’s hair was coming away. “Can you help me understand?” he asked, trying to be calm in spite of the top-drop he felt creeping over him. “Do you know why... you reacted like that?”

 

A light shiver traced over Martin’s chest and without thinking Douglas stroked a soothing hand down his sternum. The action seemed to have the desired pacifying effect, as Martin took a deep breath to reply.

 

“It felt - as if I was stealing those words from you.” Martin shuddered again, just once. “Like I didn’t deserve them.” He hesitated, then rushed on before Douglas could interrupt with a contradiction. “You’ve said... nice things before, but never so many, never all at once. And - and you’ll think I’m crazy. But it was too much.”

 

Martin’s stomach was nearly clean, now. The rest would come off in the shower. Douglas bent over and kissed his belly, several times, then curled to lie his head on Martin’s chest. “OK.”

 

“OK?” Martin sounded stunned. “What do you - I mean - why?”

 

Douglas drew a leg cautiously over Martin’s thighs. “I mean that whatever is upsetting you, I guarantee I won’t do.” He chanced a look up, still resting his ear over Martin’s pectoral muscle. “If that kind of praise feels wrong to you, I won’t go all out with it.” He kept his expression utterly serious, trying to convey the promise in his words.

 

Martin gaped down at him, moving his arm so he could encircle Douglas’ shoulders and tangle his fingers in his dom’s hair. “You aren’t going to tell me I’m wrong? That I -” his mouth twisted - “ _deserve_  to be told those things?”

 

Douglas considered. “Do you want me to tell you you’re wrong?”

 

Martin shook his head violently. “No.”

 

“There you are then.” Douglas arched his back into Martin’s cuddle. “Don’t misunderstand me - I believed completely what I was telling you, and still do. But -” he said hastily, before Martin could tense up again, “your comfort in a scene comes before everything else.”

 

A great  _whoosh_  of breath escaped Martin’s lungs, something damp in it reminiscent of a sob. “Douglas...”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I love you.”

 

Douglas tried not to jolt in astonishment, but he couldn’t stop himself craning his neck up to see Martin’s face again. “You’ve never said that before.”

 

Martin shook his head, a wet chuckle vibrating Douglas’ cheek on his chest. “No.” He stroked Douglas’ head. “But I do.”

 

Douglas’ skin was on fire again, but this time it was welcome warmth, spreading beautiful heat through him without the biting pain. “I do too. I do. I do.”

 

Martin smiled, totally relaxed in Douglas’ embrace, and Douglas knew with a sudden unshakeable certainty that they were aflame as one. It was glorious.


End file.
